No Sleep Tonight

Posted on Sun Mar 29th, 2026 @ 11:23pm by Commodore Wilkan Targaryen & Gamma Quadrant NPC & Lieutenant Commander Aidan Datari & Lieutenant Rio Kholin MD & Lieutenant Amber Laurell

6,574 words; about a 33 minute read

Mission: 8. Epidemic
Location: Central Clinic, Talu
Timeline: 2439-08-27, 01:45

The hum of the transporter was a brief, shimmering reprieve from the Bridge's light, but as the particles coalesced in the Talu Central Clinic, the "silver fog" in Wilkan’s vision shifted into a sharp, crystalline glare. The medical hub was a cavernous space of cold stone and humming, oversized machinery. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and the sharp, medicinal tang of local antiseptics, the scent far more industrial than the sterile, filtered air of the Enterprise.

Enveloping Wilkan and his team was the faint, shimmering blue hum of the Life Support Belts. The thin containment fields of the belts scrubbed the Talu atmosphere and regulated their temperature, creating a stark, luminous contrast to the facility built into a natural basalt cavern. To the Talu, they didn't look like a medical relief team, they looked like glacial spirits wrapped in light.

Out of the shadows emerged a tall, spindly figure in a heavy protective apron. Doctor Chirnup’s four eyes narrowed as he looked at the Starfleet arrivals, his skin a pale, agitated lavender.

"You," Chirnup hissed, her heavy, rhythmic footsteps approaching. "You have the audacity to manifest in the center of our suffering? We are drowning in a plague your 'friendship' brought upon us, and you walk among us like ghosts?" She gestured toward the shimmering blue fields, "Then you mock our suffering with your sorcery."

"It isn't sorcery, Doctor, and it isn't a mockery," Wilkan stood his ground, his voice steady despite the jagged pulse of the 'Clear-Snow' behind his eyes. "It’s a barrier. My people are as vulnerable to this world as yours are to us right now. If I walk through your 'frost-chill' without this, I’m a liability to my team and a distraction to your work."

"We didn't come here to observe," the Commodore continued as he took a slow, deliberate step toward Chirnup. He narrowed his gaze as he forced himself to find Chirnup’s primary set of eyes, "We’re here because we made a promise during first contact that we would be there for you and your people. If the Federation’s the cause of all this, then the Federation’s hands will be the ones to fix it."

Chirnup recoiled as her four eyes darted between the shimmering blue apparition of the away team and the archaic, wheezing machines that represented the height of Talu medicine.

"Fix it?" Chirnup’s voice cracked, a high-pitched, harmonic sound of desperation. "You speak of 'fixing' while the Ministry of Health is preparing for mass burials. You bring light into a tomb, Starfleet. Look at them!" She gestured wildly with the ledger toward the moaning patients. "They did not have 'irritated retinas.' They have skin that weeps and lungs that seize. If you're so superior, why is everyone who touched your people dying?"

Listening and observing the Talu doctor, Aidan finally stepped forward. "We're not superior," he started, testing his use of the Talu language by starting with just a few words. He was still learning the subtleties but prayed his actual effort wouldn't go unnoticed. He also hoped the shimmer of the field around him wouldn't hinder the communication attempt. "But we do want to help, if we are responsible then we'll take our responsibility and do whatever we can to help save your people."

The Trill paused, glancing sideways at Amber and Rio. "If this isn't our doing, we'll still help with finding a cure. Whatever it takes to help save your people, because that's our way."

Wilkan listed to his Science Officer's answer, grateful that he had brought him along on this voyage. He looked upon the Talu's Chief Medical Officer though to see if the answer had caused a change, or had brought more steel to her perspective.

Chirnup stood frozen, her four eyes tracking the rhythm of Aidan. Her anger fractured into a clinical bewilderment as she processed their sincerity.

"You speak our tongue, yet hide behind walls of light," she whispered, her harmonic voice echoing against the basalt. "A strange responsibility that requires a barrier between the doctor and the dying." She stepped toward Wilkan, her feverish skin flushed a bruised purple. "If you aren't superior, why are you still standing? My people turn to ash while your eyes only... 'irritate.' The Prime Minister has already drafted a signal to the Founders, seeking a swifter cure than your apologies."

"If we are truly responsible for this, then these walls of light are actually for your protection ma'am," Aidan answered thoughtfully, "and our own in the event we aren't at fault." As far as he knew there was no direct evidence this was their doing. He held out his hands towards the Talu doctor, palms up. "What do you require, how can we help. Is there any way we can help filter the air here in the wards? Or provide sustenance? Extra hands to help treat your ailing people?" He was grasping at straws, offering anything he could think of in a genuine desire to help. His whole bearing was of sincerity and truth, because never once in his life had he consciously told a lie. He didn't know how.

Amber was impressed at Aidan’s diplomatic skills, his honesty was at least making some impact on the Talu. “We are here to do whatever we can to help your people, if we didn’t want to help we could have simply left your system. Our medical technology maybe able to detect whatever it is that is infecting you, at least allow us to try.”

Commodore Targaryen listened to the back-and-forth between his team and the Chief Medical Officer. He was impressed; they had moved the needle from open hostility to a fragile dialogue in minutes. Yet, he could feel the Talu’s lingering suspicion and their fear that the Federation was merely a harbinger of invasion or a thief coming for the Talu Pearl. Words had done their job; now, he needed a gesture of weight.

Reaching for the control stud on his waist, Wilkan pressed it.

The shimmering blue field vanished in a heartbeat. The transition was brutal. The atmospheric pressure hit him like the hull of a shuttlecraft, nearly buckling his knees. Talu was a Class P world, a realm of perpetual permafrost where the air didn't just feel cold; it felt heavy and sharp. His lungs seized as he took his first unscrubbed breath, the moisture on his skin turning to a fine rime of frost instantly.

Wilkan forced himself to stand straight, his jaw tight against the involuntary shiver threatening to take him. He looked Chirnup in her primary eyes, his own vision clouding further as the cold aggravated his condition.

"Your fate shall be my fate, Doctor," Wilkan managed, each word a visible puff of ice in the dim light. "I breathe your air. If it is a tomb, I will not be a ghost in it, I will be a guest."

Chirnup stood paralyzed, her four eyes tracking the immediate impact of the frost on Wilkan's skin. The "sorcery" was gone, and the vulnerability of the man before her was undeniable. A sharp, rhythmic clicking came from her throat in a sign of begrudging respect.

"A guest who freezes is a burden, not a helper," Chirnup interjected as she turned and barked a command to an orderly in their native tongue.

Soon after the orderly returned with a heavy, oil-treated canvas cloak, thick enough to stop a gale, and a pair of dark, lead-rimmed goggles. Chirnup took them and stepped into Wilkan’s space, her movement brisk and clinical. Without asking, she draped the soot-smelling fabric over his shoulders and held out the goggles.

"Our sun is weak, but our stone reflects the glare in ways your eyes clearly cannot handle," she said, her harmonic voice softening slightly. "Wear these. They are fitted with polished obsidian lenses. It will dull the 'fog' you see. If you insist on walking our path, Commodore, at least do not do it blind."

Wilkan took the goggles, his fingers numb as they brushed against the rims. As he pulled them on, the world snapped into a high-contrast, tinted clarity; the obsidian filtered the harsh crystalline glare that had been stabbing at his retinas. He adjusted the heavy fabric, feeling the weight of it. He knew he’d pushed his luck, and the worried glances from the away team didn't escape him, but he had finally earned the team a seat at the table.

"Thank you, Doctor," Wilkan forced out, the heavy oil-scented canvas of the cloak already trapping a fraction of his dissipating body heat. "Your hospitality is as sharp as your world’s air. It is... appreciated."

She gestured toward the back of the ward. "Follow. If your Doctor’s tools are as 'superior' as her leader is stubborn, perhaps we can see the enemy before the cold claims what is left of your heat."

The Trill's expression turned to horror as the captain turned off his forcefield. But it was too late now to offer protest, the damage was done. "We'll take all information you're willing to share with us and we'll share all our findings with you," he spoke, unable to keep the horror over Wilkan's action out of his voice. "If you can spare me a guide, I'd like to take scans of the area, as detailed as possible. Also details of any alien contact apart from with us would be useful. The more information I have the better I can make predictions and calculations." He paused. "If you can give doctors Kholin and Laurel all information regarding your species she can adjust her equipment. Equally, I recommend your doctors to take as many readings from us as is necessary."

Aidan handed from the tall Talu to his own team members. "Speaking for myself, I'll submit to any exam you deem necessary." It was a personal gesture, to show he trusted them with his life and biometric data.

Amber was equally as horrified as Wilkan had dropped his forcefield. She just had to hope now that he wasn’t infected by whatever it was that was infecting the Talu. “Can you tell us when and where this disease began, who was the first patient? How long before the second patient became infected? Any information you could give us will help with our research.”

The basalt corridors tightened as Chirnup led the team deeper into the hub. "The first fell three days after your shuttle departed," she rasped, her voice echoing off damp stone. "By sunset, his family was weeping blood."

She heaved a manual lever, and the hiss of equalizing pressure revealed a ward of flickering gaslight and wheezing respirators. Beside a child whose lavender skin had turned a bruised black, the medical team worked frantically. "The Talu physiology is crashing," came the urgent report from the bedside. "Their own immune systems are incinerating them."

Wilkan, draped in his heavy canvas cloak, watched through obsidian lenses as the light transformed. "Doctor," he asked, his voice a low vibration in the chill, "what price have the Founders asked for a cure?"

Kholin ran a medical tricorder over the top of the bruised child and - without making any contact with him - taking readings of all of his vitals, apparent imbalances and scans so gentle he didn't appear to have even felt them.

"The Pearl of Talu," Chirnup clicked in bitter respect. "Our core. They offer a life in exchange for our future, a bargain made in a tomb, Commodore."

A holographic scan bloomed in the dim air, revealing a molecular structure like a jagged, crystalline lattice. It was beautiful and terrifying, shimmering with a familiar, high-frequency pulse. It wasn’t biological; it was a sub-atomic resonance, mimicking the Talu’s natural frequency and shattering it from within.

“You can’t give away your future, give us a chance to help you before you go selling away your people’s futures.” Amber added as she moved a little closer to the child. “What on Earth is this?” She looked towards Rio wondering what her friend and colleague was making of it.

Rio was still collecting data and performing small areas of scanning but she was frowning. "This child's blood is very thin by comparison to most species I've ever encountered or researched. Almost at haemophiliac levels. There are distinct equivalents of what might be red or coloured cells and white ones that seem to be depleted. I'm just starting to check for organ functions. He certainly seems to be febrile although I don't know what their normal temperatures should be on average for his age......"

Almost as if on cue a sharp, rhythmic whine of high-output energy tore through the ward, ionizing the air with the bitter taste of copper. Pillars of white-hot light coalesced in the center of the basalt chamber, forming a stark contrast to the flickering gaslight. As the particles settled, four figures emerged. Two were towering Jem’Hadar soldiers in serrated obsidian armor. Between them stood a Vorta in high-collared, intricately layered robes, accompanied by the Talu's leader, Prime Minister Dervimnurk. The Prime Minister’s expression was a mask of exhausted desperation, his regal robes heavy with the damp chill of the ward.

"I am Minister Borath, Medical Attaché to the Great Link," the Vorta stated, safe among his guards. He looked at Wilkan with a patronizing tilt of his head. "Commodore, you’re breathing their air. How sentimental. But your 'symptom of being human' won't stabilize a cellular collapse. Fortunately, I don’t deal in gestures, I deal in cures."

Before Wilkan could react, Doctor Chirnup recoiled, dropping into a shallow, trembling bow. "Minister Borath. Prime Minister."

Dervimnurk stepped forward, his four eyes fixed on the holographic lattice. "The bargain is struck, Starfleet. The Founders offer life. What do you offer but more questions?"

"The Federation was always fond of the word 'future,'" the Vorta began, his voice a dry, cultured rasp. He stepped forward, his lilac eyes sweeping over Wilkan’s oil-treated cloak with a faint, clinical smile. "Usually while they are busy misplacing the present."

Wilkan’s jaw was a locked vice against the Talu chill, his eyes narrowed behind the lead-rimmed goggles. Enterprise's Captain scrutinized the Vorta through his obsidian lenses, the Minister’s silhouette a sharp, clinical blade against the flickering gaslight. Every breath was a jagged shard of ice in his lungs, but the Commodore didn’t let so much as a shiver betray him. The Commodore didn't flinch as the Jem'Hadar rifles tracked his movement, he simply stood taller in the heavy canvas cloak, a ghost of a smile touching his blue-tinged lips.

"It's a pleasure, Minister Borath, your reputation precedes you," he said, the words puffing into the air like frozen smoke. "I'm impressed that the Dominion’s Medical Attaché moonlights as an emergency first responder. Empersa is half a quadrant away, yet you arrive precisely as the first bodies hit the floor. Your arrival is either a triumph of subspace physics or a remarkable display of... prior awareness. One might almost think you were waiting in the hallway," he said with a mock chuckle.

"Efficiency is so often mistaken for conspiracy by those who lack the means to match it, Commodore," Borath replied, his voice a melodic, thin purr from an unwavering smile. "When a world as precious as Talu begins to... resonate with such distress, the Great Link finds a way to shorten the distance." He turned his back on Wilkan with a fluid, dismissive grace, focusing his violet gaze on Prime Minister Dervimnurk. "The Commodore's skepticism is a necessary defense for a man whose 'friendship' resulted in weeping blood. It is a symptom of being human, I suppose, to audit travel logs while your children’s cells continue to shatter."

"The Federation does not solely consist of 'humans', Minister" Rio said, quietly but effectively. "and that's just the first and most obvious fallacy in amongst the several and many in your statements. We have barely been here literally minutes, and already I am detecting an auto-immune failure in these Taluvian patients.

Already some hopeful information that can be expounded upon and treated without any need for this planet to be torn asunder by wrenching out its core under duress for something that you haven't yet confirmed - nor better still proven - that you can definitely cure. It sounds like a ruthless barter for a Race's very future whilst you claim to have the cures they need but yet withhold them until your ransom is paid. That, in my personal, humble opinion, I'd perceive as murderous blackmail and tyranny."

Kholin's words were delivered calmly and apparently dispassionately even though within the hybrid doctor, she seethed with anger and empathic pain for all these poor people.

"A hybrid," Borath murmured, his smile remaining a fixed, brittle mask of clinical empathy. He didn't look at Kholin, but his voice sharpened with a patronizing edge. "How typical of the Federation to mix variables and call it progress. Your diagnosis is as cluttered as your DNA, Doctor."

He turned his violet gaze back to Prime Minister Dervimnurk, dismissive of the Starfleet team. "You see, Prime Minister? While your children’s cells shatter, they offer 'opinions' and 'lectures.' I offer the salvation of the Great Link." Borath withdrew a humming silver canister from his sleeve. It cast rhythmic, azure shadows against the damp basalt. "This is a stabilizer," Borath stated, his tone shifting to profound pity. "The lattice killing your people is a rejection of a foreign presence, a dissonance caused by them. This will quiet the noise and allow the Talu to breathe, provided the source of the agitation is... removed." His look of irritation toward the Starfleet personnel was unmistakable.

Dervimnurk looked at Wilkan, his four eyes rimmed with terminal exhaustion. "They have already eased the pain in the lower wards, Commodore. If your presence is the poison, then for the sake of the morning, you must leave."

Borath held the canister toward the dying child, his eyes locking onto Wilkan’s. "Shall I begin, Commodore? Or would you prefer to finish your ethics briefing while the patient expires?"

"If that stabilizer can ease her breathing, then use it," Wilkan ordered, his voice taking on the commanding tone befitting the Captain of the Starship Enterprise, "but don't mistake my silence for a lack of scrutiny, Minister. If you’re here to quiet the 'noise,' make sure you aren't just changing the frequency of the funeral march." He stepped away from the bed, the heavy oil-scented canvas of his cloak brushing against the stone as he moved away from the child. The look on his face was clear for his crew though. He wanted them to figure out what the Vorta was up to.

"You want something vital to them in return," Aidan spoke up, "you offer nothing, you give them a choice they shouldn't have to make. That's called blackmail. We offer help and ask nothing in return. You accuse us of being human while you speak of efficiency. Yet you lack the efficiency to observe that we are not all Human." The Trill could barely keep the seething anger he felt out of his voice as he switched to the Vorta language. A valuable knowledge thanks to his practice with Kuzos. "We offer our help freely, and will work hard to provide a cure, and we ask no compensation."

“May I ask Minister” Amber looked towards Borath offering a polite smile and respectful tone. “You said you provide, more or less, a stabiliser for now. When will an actual cure for this condition be available to the Talu. I have no doubt you will be requesting the pearl in return for a cure, so will that cure be given and the people cured before you take that payment? The Talu do reserve the right to ensure any cure works before giving away what is most precious to them.”

"Such a passionate defense of 'free' help," Borath taunted, his smile unbreakable as his eyes flickered with a brief curiosity as Aidan spoke the tongue of the Dominion. He didn't answer the Trill, instead he focused on Amber, "To answer your question: the cure is not a single injection. It is an environmental realignment. The Pearl is not merely 'payment'; it is the biological anchor the Great Link requires to stabilize the planet. The problem is we cannot fix the foundation while you are still hammering on the roof."

With a click of his thumb, Borath activated the silver canister and a fine, emerald mist hissed into the air, swirling toward the dying child. Almost instantly, the jagged, crystalline spikes on the holographic display began to soften. The child’s chest, which had been hitching in violent, shallow jerks, settled into a deep, rhythmic rise and fall. The weeping of the skin slowed, the raw blackness matting into a dry, protective crust.

"There," Borath whispered, his voice dripping with a terrifyingly sincere warmth. "The body is healing. For now." He turned back to Prime Minister Dervimnurk, his expression shifting into one of somber, tragic duty, "As I said, this is a stabilizer. As long as the Enterprise remains in orbit, the resonance will return. It's a simple matter of physics. Your people can survive the cure, or they can survive the 'friends' who brought the sickness. They cannot survive both."

Dervimnurk’s four eyes fixed on his breathing child, then drifted to Wilkan. The hope in his gaze was hollowed out by a brutal, terminal pragmatism. "The Federation's hands are empty, Commodore," the Prime Minister whispered. "The Dominion's hands are full. If you truly wish to save us... leave. Take your ship and your 'free help' and go before the disease wakes again."

Commodore Targaryen turned his back on the Vorta, his obsidian lenses fixed solely on the Prime Minister. The heavy canvas of his cloak brushed against the damp basalt, the only sound in the sudden, tense silence of the ward.

"I know how this looks, Prime Minister," Wilkan began, his voice steady despite the frost riming his collar. "And had I been in your shoes, watching my people suffer, I would be looking for a fix just as desperately as you are. But what is happening here is wrong." He gestured toward the Starfleet team, then back to Dervimnurk. "My people are here to help. If we are the cause of this resonance, we will be the ones to make it right, and we ask for absolutely nothing in return from your people." He spared a sharp, freezing glance toward Borath. "No price, no 'anchors,' and no ransoms for your future."

Wilkan stood taller, the authority of the Enterprise behind every word. "I offer you a choice, Prime Minister. Allow us the opportunity to find the truth and develop a cure, one we will provide freely and without debt. Or, if you truly believe our presence is the poison, we will weigh anchor and leave your system immediately. The decision is yours, and yours alone."

Dervimnurk looked from the revitalized child to the Commodore’s unwavering silhouette. The silence in the ward was absolute, broken only by the hiss of the dying gaslights. He looked at Wilkan, a man freezing in an oil-treated cloak, and then at Borath, who stood as a paragon of effortless health.

"Minister," Dervimnurk said, his harmonic voice trembling with a heavy, newfound weight. "The Commodore offers a gift. You offer a trade. If I allow the Federation this... opportunity to prove their innocence, will the Dominion’s hand remain extended? If they fail, will the 'morning' you promised still be available to my people?"

"The Great Link is patient, Prime Minister, but your condition is not," Borath’s smile fell, the skin around his lilac eyes crinkling with a sudden, sharp edge. "Every hour the Enterprise remains in orbit their 'free' help is a luxury paid for in Talu lives. If you choose to gamble with your children's breath on the off-chance the Federation can undo the damage their very existence has caused... that is your right as a leader." He paused, casting a brief, clinical look at Wilkan, "However, the Dominion does not wait in line. While our resources are vast, our patience is not. Our resources shall be directed where they are welcome. Whether we return to salvage what is left after the Federation’s 'opportunity' has run its course, well, that would depend on the state of the Pearl as your loyalty is in question."

"We will succeed," Aidan hissed at the Vorta, his eyes sparkling angily, "unlike you, we require nothing but a chance to prove we are who we claim we are. Unlike you, we don't adhere to emotional blackmail. We don't put lives in the balance in exchange for something else." He turned to the Talu, language, tone and entire bearing shifting. "Let us help," he pleaded, "the longer we stand here arguing, the more your people will suffer. Please, let us get to work to save you. We'll adhere to any quarantine, any testing of ourselves you require to ensure progress is made." By now, he was starting to feel this plague was deliberate, for how could a stabiliser be on hand when they didn't even know the actual cause?

Amber gave Aidan a curious look, his mind was practically becoming an open book to her without even trying to hear his thoughts. His anger was throwing his thoughts out there for every telepath to hear. “Excuse me Minister, but may I ask how you came to make this partial cure without actually knowing what’s causing this disease? Surely you would have required a sample from a victim? This is the first time you’ve been on the surface isn’t it?” Amber gave the Vorta a curious look.

Amber's question sparked a similar thread in Rio's thought process. ~What if the Dominion caused this and by some means we can't yet see, made it look like Federation contamination. Have we been framed here?~ she wondered. As these thoughts circled in her mind, Kholin began to alter what her medical tricorder was scanning for.~

Borath’s violet eyes shifted toward Amber, his expression one of wounded professionalism. "A scientist who cannot grasp the concept of predictive modeling is a liability. The Great Link maintains records of nearly every biological and environmental variance in this quadrant. When the Talu’s distress reached us, we didn't need to 'wait' for a sample; we simply cross-referenced the symptoms with known Starfleet 'standardized' contaminants. You are remarkably consistent in the trail of waste you leave behind."

He turned back to the Prime Minister, his voice lowering to a somber, silk-threaded warning. "But while the Federation offers you 'quarantine' and 'testing,' the clock continues to tick. My stabilizer is a temporary reprieve. If their 'opportunity' fails, the subsequent collapse will be twice as violent. I will withdraw to my ship to coordinate our secondary relief fleet. You have the Commodore's word, and you have my ultimatum."

With a sharp, rhythmic click of his tongue, the two Jem'Hadar stepped back. In a swirl of white-hot light, the Dominion delegation vanished, leaving the ionized scent of ozone and a heavy, suffocating silence in the ward.

Dervimnurk looked at the child, whose skin was no longer weeping but remained a bruised, unnatural purple. He turned to Wilkan, his primary eyes hard. "Twenty-four hours, Commodore. My orderlies will escort your team to the primary laboratory. The rest of you will remain in this ward. Mark my words: If my people do not see a miracle by the next dawn, you will leave to never return, and Talu will find its 'morning' elsewhere."

Wilkan tightened the oil-treated cloak around his shoulders, the obsidian goggles hiding the strain in his eyes. "You heard the man. We have one rotation to save a world and catch a Vorta in a lie. Get to work."

"Yes Commodore, and it may be hopeful that my med-corder has already been taking readings - in particular before the Vorta left, Sir" she announced. "Any data is better than none and we may find a thread to follow, if we're sharp about it, in all the senses of that phrase. We'll get to work at once and I'll send any lab-work we need back to the ship for our best and cleverest scientists and medics to work on, whilst Amber and I start on what we can here."

"Doctor, you have the most difficult task. Borath didn’t just stabilize that child; he hijacked her recovery. If that emerald mist is a 'masking agent,' we need to know exactly what it’s hiding before it wears off," Wilkan explained, the sharp Talu air feeling like a jagged test of his endurance as it entered his lungs. He shifted his gaze to Aidan, "Aidan, get to that laboratory. If Borath is right about 'predictive modeling,' then the Dominion has a database on Talu physiology that shouldn't exist. Find the gaps in their data. Cross-reference everything we saw with our first contact visit. If we’re the 'toxic' element, there should be a trail. If we’re being framed, there will be a fingerprint."

"We would be helped by physical samples got to our lab, those would give us a clearer reading of the health history over recent time, with and without the masking." Rio said thoughtfully. "Do you think it would be allowed for us to send that back to the Medical Labs on the ship? Our modern methods would be very minimally invasive, just the smallest strand of hair, as long as possible, perhaps a current hairbrush?" she added looking around in the hopes of seeing one nearby to the child in question. "If not, we'll have to set up what we can cobble together here which might be slower and we're short of that one particular resource." she added, sofly enough to probably only be clear to the Away Team members.

The Trill nodded, his eyes still dark with seething anger towards the Vorta minister. "If there are discrepancies, I'll find them," he promised, "I also recommend sampling the girl's blood as soon as possible so we can isolate that agent he administered."

Moving toward the Prime Minister, Wilkan kept his posture rigid, refusing to let the frostbite at his extremities dictate his movements. Dervimnurk was a man standing on the edge of a precipice, staring at a savior who demanded his world's soul in exchange for its breath.

"Prime Minister," Wilkan spoke, his voice a low, steady anchor in the cavernous ward. "I won't ask for your trust and I know I haven't earned it yet, but I will ask for your scrutiny. Watch us as we work. If we fail, or we don't meet your standards, my ship will leave, and I will personally answer for every life lost on your world. However, if we find the truth... you’ll keep your Pearl, and your people will never have to owe their lives to a silver canister."

He turned back to his team, the authority of the uniform, even under the heavy Talu cloak, drawing them in.

"Amber, stay with Rio. Monitor the patients who received the stabilizer," the Commodore commanded as he looked at the youngster that had been treated by the Vorta. He rested his hand on the corner of the bed, "Mister Barr, continue monitoring the patients with Amber. If the Vorta is as strategic as I expect him to be, we run the risk of him announcing to the Talu that the cure is here and we'll have a riot on our hands."

“Understood Sir, we’ll do our upmost to get to the bottom of this.” Amber added before offering Rio a warm smile. She also nodded politely to Herbert.

“Sir, might I suggest a discussion with Commander Kuzos?” Amber added. “He knows his people better than any of us. He might be able to shed some light on their motives, and whether the Dominion might have anything to do with this plague.”

"I could use Kuzos too," Aidan said, turning briefly as he had started to walk away, "he's got a sharp analytical mind I'd like to make use of when picking through all these files. And I'd love a good parka... this life belt needs battery preservation and if I declare the lab a quarantine zone...I can deactivate it. I love the cold, but I can handle only so much in a plain uniform."

Wilkan’s jaw tightened at the suggestion. The memory of his last exchange with Kuzos still left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn't thrilled at the prospect of inviting that particular fox into the hen house, especially when the Dominion was already hovering over the planet like a shroud.

But, their options were limited and Kuzos was the devil they knew.

"A valid point, Amber," Wilkan finally relented, his voice rasping from the chill. "Kuzos is our best window into Borath’s mind. If this is a play for the Pearl, he’ll recognize the tactical strategy. He understands the modeling Borath boasted about, and he’ll know if those models are being padded with Federation specific markers."

He focused on Aidan next, seeing the determination in the young Trill’s eyes. "Aidan, I'll have the ship beam down cold-weather gear, but we'll have to alert Ash because the belts should be insulating you. Get yourself into a parka because I don't want you becoming another patient Chirnup has to worry about. Find out why the Dominion had a 'stabilizer' ready for a world they haven't visited in decades."

Wilkan looked over at Rio and Herbert. "Doctor, I'll speak with the Prime Minister about the samples. If a single strand of hair is the key to bypassing a Dominion ransom, he’ll listen. But be discreet. We are guests in a tomb." He then looked to Herbert Barr. "Mister Barr, keep a sharp eye on the perimeter. If the Talu hear there’s a cure and we aren't holding it, this ward will turn into a battlefield."

"Sir, mine is not one of Lieutenant Ash's making, I have the one presented by Lieutenant Urvasi. And I'll declare the lab a quarantine zone so I can work safely. I'll wear the belt if patient contact is necessary." The Trill explained quietly.

Wilkan paused, the realization of his error momentarily cutting through the biting chill of the ward. He tightened his grip on the edge of the stone bedframe, the cloak shifting with a heavy, soot-scented rustle. "My apologies, Aidan, for my misremembering. My mind is currently more focused on the frost-chill than our inventory lists," Wilkan admitted, his breath blooming into a thick cloud of ice. He gestured vaguely toward the cavern walls, the dark basalt seeming to close in under the flickering gaslight. "The interference in this cavern is more substantial than the Enterprise predicted. If Urvasi’s belt is what’s keeping you upright, then by all means, keep it active until you’re behind a sealed door."

"But the point remains," Wilkan continued, as he adjusted the obsidian goggles. "I don't want any of you pushing your limits for the sake of appearances. If the lab is a quarantine zone, use the thermal parkas. If the Talu see you in heavy gear, they'll see a team prepared for a long stay and a difficult fight. Right now, looking like we’re settling in for the work is exactly the message I want to send."

He turned back to the Prime Minister, his posture rigid as he forced himself to ignore the creeping numbness in his extremities. "Prime Minister, my team is moving to the laboratory to begin the 'miracle' you've requested. We’ll need that hair sample Doctor Kholin mentioned, and any historical medical records you have from before our first contact. If we’re the poison, the data will show a clean break. If not, we’ll find the signature of the man who just left this room."

The Prime Minister stood as still as the basalt pillars surrounding him, his four eyes tracking the exchange between the Starfleet officers with a heavy, rhythmic blinking. To a man whose world was freezing from the inside out, the political maneuvering of two giants felt like being trapped between tectonic plates.

"You speak as if this were a courtroom," Dervimnurk said, standing as still as the basalt pillars surrounding him. His harmonic voice was echoing with a hollow, metallic resonance in the damp ward, "But look around you, Commodore. This is not a place of debate, this is a place of endings." He looked toward the child, who was breathing now only because of the Dominion’s mist. "You ask for hair, you ask for records, you ask for time. These are small things for a man to give, but they are everything when the sun refuses to rise on our world. If my records show that we were healthy before your shadow fell upon us, I will not care if the toxin was a 'mistake' or a 'manufactured discord.' I will only know that my people are dead."

The Prime Minister turned to Doctor Chirnup, offering a brief, sharp nod. "Give them what they require. Open the archives. If they need a strand of hair to find a truth that does not cost us our Pearl, then let them pull it. But hear me, Targaryen," Dervimnurk leaned in, his lavender skin looking bruised and translucent under the gaslight, "I am watching as our my people. If your 'gift' is nothing but a delay while the Dominion’s cure fades away, I will not be the only one to answer for the lives lost. I will personally see that your departure from this system is as cold and unforgiving as the air you are so bravely breathing."

He gestured toward the laboratory entrance, his hand trembling slightly. "Go. Find your fingerprint., but remember: the silver canister is already working so your miracle has a heavy lead to overcome."

With a nod, the Trill science chief moved off. "The lab is now a quarantine zone," he announced, "a safe zone for when the life support belts need recharging as well." He had work to do, and there was no more time to waste.

Amber looked to Rio ready to get on with the task at hand, she wanted to help the Talu and to see one very sick child back to full health again.

Rio responded to Amber's look with a determined nod as she took her med-kit up and carried it to into the quarantine zone alongside her colleague, looking to do whatever she could, to find out how this child had been harmed and more importantly how to reverse the effects if possible.

Aidan glanced around the enormous lab, which had a wide variety of both medical and scientific work stations and equipment. "Goodness," he breathed, "this feels like taking a step a century back in time..." He approached what was marked as a database and activated it. "Here's to hoping our equipment will actually talk to it..."

RSS Feed